By Lê Vĩnh Tài, translated by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
isn’t it funny how
as the poem opens a door
awaiting a whole new world
it would disappear like a cloud
is invention a thing anymore
where sadness is everything
as we all know
it is dense like a shadow
isn’t it a waste of time
when the poem flitters
from one flame to the next
igniting slowly in a glance
no one seems to have time for poetry
the poem, it had tried its best to avoid
the cynicism in cynicism
or the poets’ habitual
hype
the poem desiring
the vastness of the horizon
unobscured by your hand
it concurs
with the poets who are full of themselves
it’s fully aware of the emptiness in a pool
without water
within modern poetry
you see sometimes an apartment building
silently blending in with the horizon
so our knowledge may be…
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